


One in a Million

by HoopyFrood



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Drabble, Emotional Baggage, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-11
Updated: 2012-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-29 09:26:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoopyFrood/pseuds/HoopyFrood





	One in a Million

For a moment, Jackie genuinely thinks it's François standing there; a few feet away and completely engrossed in conversation with a mechanic, loose limbed and happy.

It's like a punch to the gut. Suddenly, it's 1970 again. He's thirty, and François is alive and vibrant and just so utterly _gorgeous_ , that Jackie can't help the small sob that escapes from between his lips.

It's the eyes. Piercing blue, yet somehow impossibly dark at the same time. They're François' eyes. Jackie watches as the driver laughs and they crinkle at the sides, just like how he remembers. Oh, his smile. Jackie's knees go weak. He hadn't anticipated what seeing that smile again could do to him.

He can feel his body start to shake as he begins to walk closer. He _aches_ with longing, the likeness both breathtaking and heartbreaking at the same time. He thinks about François almost every day, always mulling over the what ifs and the could have beens. To be confronted with something so tangible isn't something he'd ever prepared himself for. After all, who would?

But, as he finally comes to a stop in front of the young driver after what feels like having run a marathon, the haze breaks - this man is shorter, and his hair is just all wrong. François always towered over Jackie, a constant comfort at the Scot's side, and had curls that brushed his cheekbones and tumbled down the back of his neck. Jackie loved his hair. It was just like he was; soft, glamorous and a little bit wild.

This man, or Jerome as he introduces himself in an accent that just isn't toe curlingly warm enough, isn't François. And he, nor anyone else, will ever come close.


End file.
